i'll follow you like toy soldiers
by earlgreymilktea
Summary: The infamous Nekoma group are not people you want to mess with on this side of town. You want the dirt on someone? They got it. You want to find someone that refuses to be found? They'll do it. You not afraid to do some shady business? Name the price. They'll get the job done. But at what cost; that is the question. [SHADY BUSINESS AU: nekoma chapter]
1. one

**notes:  
** **-kenma is genderqueer in this  
** **-they're all aged up a bit, duh  
** **-don't ask me what they do exactly  
** **-this is a colleCTION OF DRABBLES, DRABBLES bc what the heckie is plot**

* * *

"For your aid on this job, we'll offer you five million yen. So how about it? Quick and painless, yeah? Great deal, just sign here..."

Silence takes over the room as the man in the tacky brown suit jacket trails off. He shifts in his seat across from the infamous boss of Nekoma, Kuroo Tetsurou, who is lounging in all his glory on a leather couch, lazy smirk on his face and hair as wild as the rumours say. Two other members of the group are standing just behind the couches, both armed and with eyes trained on their guest. The only person in the room not eyeing the negotiating representative like a hawk is the small blond sitting next to Kuroo, face turned down towards the smartphone in his hands. It's hard to tell if they're a man or woman, what with their delicate features and pale skin, but the main point is that they look harmless and unimportant. Probably Kuroo Tetsurou's new plaything; not worth reporting back to the boss.

"Hm, sounds interesting," Kuroo says, finally. His smirk remains, but his eyes are sharp, calculating, as they glance from their guest to the person beside him. "What do you think, Kenma?"

The blond doesn't look up. Their finger continues to scroll down the phone, but Kuroo waits patiently. When their guest begins to squirm at the silence, Kenma speaks. "Ten million yen, up front. Or no deal."

Kuroo hums, tugging gently on a strand of blond hair. "Alright. You heard them." He nods to the man sweating in front of them. "Change the contract, and we'll do it."

The man gapes. "Wh-what-no! I mean, uh." He gulps when Kuroo raises an eyebrow. "Five million yen is more than enough-our boss even raised the price, it's double! Double the regular price, yeah? I mean, ha, you're not going to just listen to some dumb kid spouting nonsense are you-"

"Oi, oi, oi! Watch your fucking tone, I tell ya!" One of the men hovering in the background steps forward, getting right up in his face. His appearance is already enough to instill fear in most people, the dyed blond streak amidst the black hair and big broad shoulders, but his scowl is truly the most terrifying thing. "Don't you fucking dare talk about our Kenma in that way, ya hear, huh, punk?"

"Down, Yamamato." Kuroo's voice is calm, but his eyes flash dangerously as he pulls Kenma towards him. "I'm going to tell you one thing, and you can go report this back to your boss, alright? And that is that we at Nekoma favour respect above anything else. Respect to each other, and respect to all we have business with. So you don't get to come in here demanding our help with the little mess your group has gotten itself into, try to cheat us out of our profit, and then have the nerve to insult one of us.

"Now, Nekoma is an entity you don't want to mess with, you understand? We work like blood in your body, flowing smoothly so as to circulate oxygen to our brain. And the one you're calling some 'dumb kid'? They're our Brain. So yes, I am very much going to listen to that 'nonsense' they're spouting." Kuroo's smirk widens, until the room suddenly feels several degrees colder. "And if you even _think_ about touching a single hair on my kitten's head-well. I can guarantee that'll be the last thought you ever have. Understood?"

The man is frozen in his seat, eyes wide and barely breathing. He's starting to regret allowing his boss to send him here alone. "Y-yes. I understand. I'll ask to change the contract immediately."

"Good. Pleasure doing business with you." Kuroo smiles, but it doesn't make the man feel any better. "Yamamoto, Fukunaga, won't you escort our guest out?"

When the two members roughly shove the man out the door, Kenma turns towards Kuroo, a small frown on their face. "Do you have to do that every time?" they mutter.

"Do what?" replies Kuroo in an innocent manner, toying with their hair again.

"That embarrassing speech about the blood and the brain."

"But it's true though. You're our brain."

Kenma sighs. "It's gross."

Kuroo chuckles, tugging them closer. "How'd you figure the ten million yen?"

Kenma shrugs. "Five million is way too little, considering they're making us do the dirty work. We'll be left out of the loot, too, since we're not signing for clean up. That 'double the regular price' was bullshit."

"Mm. Aren't I lucky to have such a smart brain on our side."

"Gross."

But Kenma doesn't resist when Kuroo tugs them into his lap, and when Yamamoto and Fukunaga come back to report they've sent the man off successfully, they find their boss softly stroking blond hair as their real mastermind of operations dozes off against Kuroo's chest.


	2. two

**in which kuroo's a fudging idiot, kenma gets angry, and yaku knows who's the real boss of their group.**

* * *

Before Kenma even blinks open their eyes, they immediately feel that something is wrong.

They're alone in the bed, which isn't unusual in itself because Kuroo is the type that can't stay in bed for long once he's awake. But the empty space next to Kenma is cold, and Kuroo's favourite pistol that he usually keeps on the nightstand is gone. Kenma can't shake the cold feeling growing in their gut.

Slipping out of the bed which seems much colder and much too large without the bulky mass that is Kuroo, Kenma pulls on the first sweater they touch. It hangs to their mid-thigh, which means it's one of Kuroo's. That's fine, there's only family around at this hour. Kenma winces slightly when they put a little too much pressure on their right foot. It's still a bit tender, but at least the bruises and red marks from the chains are fading.

"Ah, Kenma-san! You're awake! How are you feeling?"

Kenma shrinks back slightly at the sheer volume of the giant's voice. They peer up at the tall half-Russian standing just outside the door, holding what looks to be a bag of cat food in his arms. "Lev," mutters Kenma. "Where's Kuro?"

"Hm? Boss-san? Oh, he went out with the boys to teach those bad men that kidnapped you last time a lesson!"

Kenma can feel their insides turn to ice. "What," they whisper.

"Yeah! But he told me and Yaku-san to stay behind," pouts Lev, heaving the cat food up to his shoulders, "which sucks because I wanted to bash a couple of bad guys' heads in, too! But Boss-san's word is law, so Lev will be the best bodyguard to ever bodygu-"

"When did he leave," Kenma interrupts, voice flat and trying hard not to rise in hysteria.

Lev blinks at the serious tone. "He didn't tell you? They left a couple hours ago, just after midnight. I thought you knew, he told us to take care of you-"

"Lev! Did you forget where the cat food was again?" Yaku rounds the corner, pulling short when he catches sight of Kenma. "Oh, shit. Kenma. How are you-wait, where are you going?"

Kenma shoves the bedroom door open wide, movements frantic and jerky. "I have to go. Stop him. He shouldn't have-why did he-Kuro, you fucking idiot," they mumble, trying to find their clothes in their mess of a closet.

"Kenma, no, you're not supposed to-your ankle hasn't healed properly yet-"

"Why did you let him go!" Kenma spins around, shaking off Yaku's hand. There's a thump in the background as Lev drops the cat food, but Kenma doesn't care. Golden eyes glare down at Yaku, who steps back at the intensity and anger in Kenma's expression. It's very rare for the strategist to display so much emotion, but when it does happen, it's even more terrifying than when Kuroo is on a rampage. And this time, there's no Kuroo to calm Kenma down. "How could you let him go?"

Yaku holds up his hands. "I tried to reason with him, Kenma, I swear. But you know how stubborn he gets. And this time they really did go too far, what with taking you and-and _hurting_ you, Kenma, you know we couldn't just let that slide-"

"I don't fucking care! I've warned you all not to go after them until we've gathered sufficient information, I told you, I told Kuro, and I'm back now, I'm safe, aren't I? He shouldn't have gone after them. We need to get him back, _now._ "

"But Kenma, Kuroo knows what he's-"

"No, he doesn't." Kenma pushes past Yaku, ignoring both of their stricken expressions as they open the drawer where they kept their knives in top condition. "He just walked right into a trap. He's going to get them all killed." Kenma pauses, sucking in a breath. "I can't have Kuro dying on me, Yaku. I can't. You know I can't."

There's a brief silence as Yaku exchanges glances with Lev. They both look back at Kenma, who is tucking the weapons under their clothing, as practiced and as quick as when they used to carry field missions before Kuroo made them Nekoma's official brain. The shorter man sighs.

"Alright, Kenma. We'll go, but please, allow Lev and I to do our job and protect you."


	3. three

**in which kenma-sensei makes his appearance, fukunaga is precious, and a wonderful team-bonding experience is had.**

* * *

Kenma tilts their head, glancing back down at the book in their lap. Then they nod approvingly, a tiny smile gracing their lips. "You've got it. Let's try another one."

Fukunaga responds with his own tiny smile. He sits up straight, placing his hands loosely in front of him as he watches Kenma's hands with wide, observant eyes. They continue in comfortable silence, only broken by Kenma's soft murmurs of correction.

"Hey, what are you two doing?"

Two pairs of cat-like eyes glance up at the familiar loud voice of one Yamamoto Taketora, standing before them with his arms crossed and a curious expression on his face. Fukunaga catches his attention with the ease of year-old partnership, and wordlessly points to Kenma, the book lying between them, and their hands.

"You're reading-oh. Oh! Oh man, that's fucking awesome. Can I learn, too?" Yamamoto plops down next to them, peering eagerly at the book. "Teach me, too, Kenma-sensei!"

Kenma sighs, but they're still smiling. They flip back a few pages, and begins again, hands slipping into movements that are gradually becoming familiar and easy to grasp. Fukunaga follows along in that silent, alert way of his, while Yamamoto punctuates every new sign with a loud exclamation of understanding.

Soon, they attract the attention of the rest of the family, as they come out to catch a break in the fading afternoon sun. Kenma usually hates it when they're the centre of attention, but somehow they don't mind it at all this time. The rest of Nekoma sits in a circle around them, faces in various states of concentration as they struggle to copy Kenma's hands. Random words and movements are shoved into each other's faces, inviting laughter and indignant shouting, but Kenma catches a small grin on Fukunaga's usually stoic face. And that's all that matters, really.

Later, when the book is put away and dinner is spent in half-silence as everyone tried to use their newly learnt language, Kuroo manages to trap Kenma in his arms. Soft kisses pepper Kenma's face until they squirm, blinking up at Kuroo questioningly.

"You did good," Kuroo says, tucking their hair behind their ear.

Kenma glances down, even though they know Kuroo can catch even the slightest pink tinge on their cheeks. "I just found the book in the library by accident. Shouhei wanted to learn."

"Mm. Still. That also doubled as a fun team-bonding experience, eh?"

Kenma rolls their eyes. They raise their hands, signing something quickly that he can't decipher even with Kuroo's exceptional eidetic memory.

"What? What was that? Keeeenmaaaaa..."

* * *

 **i apologize for yamamoto's potty mouth. i'm not exactly sure why he swears so much in this au.**

 **other notes:  
** **-fukunaga is mute in this au  
** **-i don't actually know any sign language in any form so i did what i did best and that is, haha, skim over it  
** **-that said, i still think that sign language should be taught universally, and ideally, as a second language or something because it's! so! important! and useful!**


	4. four

**in which** **kenma is annoyed, copious amounts of alcohol is mentioned, and kuro is fucking late.**

* * *

Glancing at the clock out of the corner of their eye, Kenma sighs to themself. The bar's beginning to become crowded, and the target is only half-drunk. Things are much too slow for Kenma's liking.

"You look a bit thirsty," Kenma says, softening their voice into something that can pass as a purr under the haziness of the dim bar lighting and the alcohol already in the man's system. "Why don't I buy you another drink, hm?"

"Aw, aren' ya nice, l'il lady?" the man slurs, leaning over slightly, showing his teeth, and unfortunately, his smelly breath. "Ya been buying me drinks all nigh', I migh' think yer up ta a l'il something something wi' me, eh?"

Kenma uses all the patience they've garnered over the years with one Kuroo Tetsurou and just barely avoids flinching backwards at the unpleasantness that is all of this man beside them. They've always hated engaging directly-and at such close distances-with the target, and this is the epitome of a bad time. Normally they wouldn't mind dressing up and carefully painting their face, but having to do it for someone as disgusting as this, in a place as sleazy as this, no one can blame Kenma for hating every minute of it. The cigarette smoke and sour beer smell probably won't even wash out of this dress. Kuroo owes them a new dress.

Hopefully their reinforcements are coming soon. They should be here soon. Because if they aren't, Kenma is not going to be held responsible for any broken bones.

His, not theirs.

"Here, drink up," they murmur, waving down the bartender for the fifteenth time that night. They watch the colour on the man's face rise, glancing at the clock once more. Kenma pushes drink after drink, persuading more names and numbers out of the man until his speech is so muddled and slurred they can't make out any coherent words anymore.

When the man begins to leer a little too close and starts to become handsy, Kenma is just about ready to call it a day, job be damned. They push back on the stool, hands clenching the man's wrist in a painful manner. But before they can do more than glare at the man blubbering in their hands, a familiar voice rings out from behind them.

"I thought we agreed to do this in a quiet and non-violent way, Kenma."

Kenma turns slightly. "Kuro. You're late."

"Sorry, kitten. There were some complications with the other one." Kuroo signals to the other two with him, Kai and Yamamoto, to grab the target. He steps up to Kenma, inspecting them carefully. "He didn't do anything to you, did he? Not that I doubt you could handle him, kitten."

Kenma shakes their head. They allow Kuroo to brush a hand through their hair, done up and held back with clips and pins, courtesy of Lev. Reaching up, they hold Kuroo's hand in their own, looking him in the eye.

"Let's go home, Kuro."


	5. five

**in which kenma's glorious mane is the star of the show, and i'm a total sucker for kuroken cuddles, as always.**

* * *

"Your hair is getting long again."

Kenma glances up from the files in their hands, to where Kuroo is stretched out on the bed, watching them quietly with soft eyes and softer expression. They tuck a strand of hair behind their ear self-consciously, glancing back down. "Mm."

"And your roots are showing again. Maybe you should re-do it."

Kenma considers it. "It's too much of a hassle," they mutter.

"I thought you'd say that." Kuroo sits up, patting the space beside him. "C'mere, kitten."

Kenma glances at him, then back at the files. Kenma sighs. Placing the documents carefully on the nightstand, they make their way over to Kuroo, shuffling in close to the other. They're careful to keep from jostling Kuroo too much.

Once they're settled against each other nicely, Kuroo gently runs his fingers through Kenma's hair. It's a familiar gesture, so Kenma closes their eyes, allowing the rhythmic movements to lull them into a half-sleep. It's been a slow afternoon; no job offers, the boys are out doing their own thing, Lev's following Yaku around trying to persuade the older to help him with his aim- and since Kuroo just had to put himself out of commission on the last job, Kenma has been forced to stay beside him all day, keeping him company, or rather, making sure he doesn't do anything stupid and reopen his wound again. So they deserve a little break like this.

"You know, if you won't let me re-dye your hair," murmurs Kuroo, his voice a vibration behind Kenma's head. "Do you want to cut it, at least?"

"You just want an excuse to touch my hair." Kenma doesn't really mind. They never really liked letting their hair grow out too long. It's too much effort to take care of it, even if the hairstyling options increase with hair length.

"Fine, you caught me." Kenma shivers as Kuroo's hands traces their hair down past their shoulders. Only Kuroo's touch can make them feel this way- like they're holding their breath in anticipation, yet at the same time so, so safe, like nothing in this terribly cruel world can ever find them.

Kenma tilts their head back to catch Kuroo's amber eyes. "Okay. You can cut it, Kuro."

That familiar smirk pulls at Kuroo's lips. "Whatever you want, kitten."


	6. six

**in which we get a glimpse into kenma's past, pre-nekoma. and it's not pretty.**

 _ **heads up for:** **mentions of violence, blood, guns.** _

* * *

The first time they killed a man, Kenma's hands didn't shake.

They hadn't meant to, of course, because even if they were operating in the underground business and the police in the area already looked the other way more often than not, getting blood on your hands, literally or metaphorically, was still too risky a business. And Kenma wasn't really in the best position to be getting involved in a mess like this. Murder in self-defense is, after all, still murder.

And no one would believe a whore.

But there the man was, dead and bleeding on the ground, and there Kenma was, standing above him and still holding a smoking gun, expressionless and silent. They were in a dirty little back alley, which was convenient, but the early-risers were just beginning to start their day, which was a little less convenient. Mama would probably be missing them soon, and Kenma knew they couldn't be around for that.

There was no going back, not since they accepted the weapon, and definitely not since they actually fired the bullet.

Putting the safety back on the gun, Kenma pulled up their hood and stepped around the growing puddle. They didn't spare a single glance back.

They're a block away when Mama's boys found them. Turning quickly down a smaller alleyway, Kenma sprinted as fast as their thin legs would allow. They were never the best athlete, as the most exercise they ever got was in somebody's bed or their brain working way too fast for somebody stuck doing a shitty job they never could enjoy, no matter what their co-workers said.

"Stop right there, ya brat!"

Risking a glance back, Kenma saw two huge guys bearing down upon them much too quickly for their liking. They turned back around, forcing themselves to run faster. But just as they turned the corner, they found themselves facing a dead end. Swearing under their breath, Kenma turned back around to face their pursuers. There were still a couple bullets left on the gun.

"Got you now, little shit," one of them grinned, showing dirty yellow teeth. Mama hired them because they were intimidating and strong, not because they were pleasant on the eyes. That's what people like Kenma was for.

"Don't come any closer." Kenma pointed the weapon, but this time their hands were shaking. Last time was pure luck, pure adrenaline, pure rage. This time, who knew where the shot would end up.

"Ha, get a load of this. Little rat thinks he can shoot us dead, eh? Don't even try, darling, just come back with us, and maybe we'll spare your face so you can still make money, huh?"

Kenma scowled. But even with their brain, the only thing they prided themselves on, they knew there was no way of escaping this. Maybe Mama would be in a charitable mood. Slowly, they lowered their arm. They tried not to show their fear and apprehension as the two thugs came closer, chuckling all the while.

"Hold it right there, motherfuckers."

All three of them froze at the new voice. Golden eyes darted from the shadows until they made contact with bright amber eyes, and a familiar smirk. From behind the thugs stood a lean figure, twirling one small pistol in each hand. The mess of black hair on his head gave him away.

"Kuro," whispered Kenma. They realized their shaking had stopped without them noticing. Even though the two thugs were still barely two steps away, even though they were still trapped in a dead end. But Kuro was here now.

Kuro's smirk softened for just a second. "Don't worry, kitten. I'm here for you." Then his expression hardened, and if Kenma was on the receiving end of that glare, they would have fallen from the intensity and the plain fear it inspired. "Sorry boys, but it's time to say your goodbyes. Kenma is leaving with me. And they're not coming back."

Two more shots rang out in the first slivers of dawn. And just as the first strands of daylight began reaching through the sleepy streets of the city, two shadows slipped through the alleys, and disappeared.


End file.
